At Last
by panicroomwriter
Summary: Roy finally decides to address his feelings for Riza. Post-Promised Day. Royai
1. Chapter 1

Roy Mustang was a man of firm resolve and strict composure. Emotions were reserved, open affection bridled simply because it was _dangerous_ to care. Sentiment harbored risk – for him, yes, but more importantly for the very people he couldn't afford to lose – not to mention the fact that it freed a place for hurt and loss in his heart, created an additional enclave for vulnerability. That much had been proven upon Hughes' death, and _damn him _for having been so useless when they had come close to taking Hawkeye away from him too.

He had found it increasingly difficult to rein in his emotions – slippery things that they were – since the promised day had passed. Subtle hints slipped through hairline cracks – not as subtle as before – and smiles and longing glances dragged out longer than was probably deemed appropriate. But could you really blame a man? No, not after he had come so close to losing what he loved most, what kept him anchored to the earth.

Something had happened, something had _snapped_ when they were beneath central, and then somehow _clicked _into place in the aftermath. It's not as though the emotions hadn't been there before – they always had been. He knew, and she knew, and an unspoken code fit between. But somewhere along the line rules had begun to fade. He figured it started during the months they were forced apart, a slow and steady tension, pushing, _pushing_ – until it all came crashing down, with Hawkeye clutching at her neck and blood pooling on the ground and black eyes wide with fear, pain, and desperation.

Tension, thankfully, was followed by unwinding relief – relief at being alive, at being whole and at the other's side without the constant threat of monsters and shadows looming overhead. The minute he had regained his eyesight, he knew that trying to keep the affection out of his gaze was a futile endeavor. She meant too much – everyone knew it at this point – and no threat was left to take her away from him. Things were safe, or at least safer than they had ever been before.

The end of a crisis had marked the beginning of an era of reconstruction and atonement, and while there was a heavy amount of work to attend to concerning Ishval, it was somehow lighter than anything they had ever had to do before. It was not an obligation, but a self-driven duty to repent for their sins.

The atmosphere seemed to have loosened since Fuhrer Grumman came into power, and Roy found his thoughts straying more and more frequently towards his lieutenant – and he couldn't figure whether or not the fact that the both of them had become less reserved in their displays of emotion lately alarmed him or elated him.

At certain times, he couldn't help but form a smile – which Hawkeye had rather endearingly dubbed 'idiotic' – from sneaking over his lips when he looked at her from across the room. The way her mouth thinned in mock irritation, of course, would only encourage him to repeat the action in the future.

The distractions would never go so far as to interfere with work, though – she wouldn't allow that – but he certainly took more breaks than he intended during the day as a result of her entrancing movements. Of course he had noticed the way she played with the loose ends of hair as the base of neck before, but never had he really allowed himself to _watch _her as she did so. Never had he risked fixing his eyes on her for more than a few seconds when she stretched in her chair. Every motion seemed a hundred times as important now that he had come so close to losing it all.

He had become less hesitant in thinking of her as _Riza _rather than _Hawkeye _or _Lieutenant_ – although the latter had somehow acquired a respectful sort of intimacy, the same way _Colonel_ resonated affection when played across her lips.

One afternoon, however, Mustang's adjutant was occupying too much of the space inside his head for him to brush it aside as he normally did. Slowly, yet ever efficiently, he churned out a battle plan – nothing complex, no grand confession, no flowers or candles or jewelry. Those things simply didn't speak to either of them. She would understand with just a few words and perhaps a well-timed action on his part – all that remained to be accounted for was a little bit of resolve, which he was more than willing to provide after all these years of distance.

Before he could plot further, Roy was lulled out of reverie, first by her delicate footsteps, and then by the gentle fluctuation of her voice.

"The files have all been moved to the archive room," she informed him, taking measures steps as she approached his desk. "Are you all done with these?"

Roy tried to compose himself as quickly as possible, glancing down at the paperwork stacked under his nose, pulling his eyes away from hers rather remorsefully. He cleared his throat.

"Nearly there," he replied casually before stretching in his chair. "But I think I'll take them home to finish overnight. There are still some things I want to look over."

"Look them over now," she replied, somewhere between a suggestion and a command.

"And keep you afterhours at the office on my account?" He paused to square the stack against the wooden surface, then tucked the papers under his arm. "I think we've worked enough for today."

Riza let out the smallest sigh of defeat, and Roy swore he caught her mumbling something about a stack of unfinished paperwork before she turned away from him. He unintentionally followed the sway of her hips and the shifting of her shoulders with his eyes as she walked on towards the front of the room, making sure to keep close behind.

Once they reached the door, Hawkeye grabbed one of the two coats hanging on the rack, and Mustang took the other.

"Hold on, Sir." Her voice stopped just as he was about to slip his right arm through the sleeve. "This one's yours," she explained, extending the coat out to its proper owner. Roy smiled and took it from her wordlessly, leaving Riza waiting with an open hand for hers in return. When he showed no sign of giving it up, the Lieutenant's eyebrows drew together and the end of her lips dipped down to form the lightest frown. Roy nearly had to bite his tongue to refrain from letting her know how sexy she looked when she donned that expression. If she ever found out that _that _was what was running through his head, he could be sure he'd never get to see it again.

"Colonel Roy Mustang," she said, her tone chiding yet playful at once. His eyes shot up to meet hers instantly, and he found that he couldn't pull them away – not that he wanted to in the least. "My coat please."

Riza almost immediately regretted what she had said, for when the words left her lips, a mischievous smirk crept over Roy's face. He took a step closer, and she made no move to back away.

"I was just waiting for you to ask," he told her, holding the coat open. Riza sighed before turning around and slipping her arms through the sleeves. He let his hands rest on her shoulder a bit longer than way necessary, but she made no move to pull away – in fact, he could have sworn he had felt her lean lightly into his touch for a brief second.

Once his hands were free again, he threw his own coat on with far less grace and smiled at her. Riza thanked him with a nod and a half smile of her own, and then her hand was on the door handle, and his was at the light switch.


	2. Chapter 2

Here's the second chapter - it's a bit longer than the first.  
Enjoy!  
(And thanks to everyone who's left reviews for the first chapter. I really appreciate any feedback!)

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Central Command's hallways were shrouded in darkness except for the occasional beam of light streaming through large window panes and onto tiled floor. Roy and Riza marched on in silence – comfortable silence – until they reached his car. Roy's mind was rather preoccupied with what he had in store for tonight to make much conversation. She usually invited him in for tea or water – never alcohol – when he drove her home, so he hoped that she would hold true to form tonight. His stratagem relied entirely on it.

Once they reached her building, Roy found himself gripping the steering wheel with sweaty palms, knuckles white under the clenching of his fingers. He wanted her to say something, to break the silence – it would ease the nervous churning in his stomach. Riza opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, then turned to poke her head into the car again. Her eyes – bright half-moons reflecting the street lamp's light – stood unwavering in the darkness.

"I'll make some tea, if you want," she told him. At this point it wasn't really a question anymore. She knew he would say yes – they had already performed this ritual a few times since the Promised Day, and he had yet to refuse her invitation.

"Thanks," he nodded with a relieved smile before getting out himself.

"And take those papers with you," she added before he could shut the door. "We can finish them upstairs."

"Alright…" he sighed, reaching to grab the unsigned documents from the front seat. She smiled in satisfaction as he came around to meet her.

Together they walked up to her floor, talking briefly about where they were at in terms of getting ready for the move to Ishval. Roy had packed most his things – which wasn't saying much considering he hardly had anything in his apartment in the first place. Riza, on the other hand, hadn't had to pack much at all considering she still had boxes lying around from her move from the East. Their time in Central had been busy, to say the least.

"Maybe we'll actually get to unpack everything once we're settled in Ishval," Roy joked lightly. Riza hummed gently in agreement as she unlocked the door.

"I wouldn't count on it," she replied. They stepped across the threshold, turned on the lights, and were immediately greeted by Hayate. The dog stood, tail wagging, just a few paces away from them. "I hope I'll at least have time to unpack some of Hayate's old toys again."

Roy leaned down, stretched his hand to meet the dog's head, and received a lick on the palm in return. Riza smiled softly at the sight of them interacting as she took off her coat. There was something about Mustang that Hayate seemed drawn to. She supposed he could feel it too, the sense of safety and joy that came with his presence. She shook her head lightly and tore her eyes away from the scene, clearing her throat.

"I'll make some tea," she informed him as she unlaced her boots. He raised his head in time to see her make her way towards the coffee machine at the other end of the room.

"Alright, I'll be in the bathroom," he told her, shedding his jacket and shoes as well. He then stepped through the door and shut it behind him.

Riza worked silently in his absence. She set both cups at opposite ends of the table once the tea had finished brewing. Chair pulled out, she took her place, awaiting his return.

Meanwhile, Roy stood across from the small bathroom mirror, hands pressed on either edge of the sink. He hadn't felt nervous – at least not like this – in a long while. It was ridiculous, really. This was Riza – this was _Hawkeye_. Although, perhaps that was what made the matter all the more delicate. He would never forgive himself if he messed this one up. Rejection from the one woman he cared for – dare he say, _loved? _– more than anything else in the world, would not be something he could handle well, not after making an effort to display his emotions so nakedly.

He sighed deeply, wiped his palms against rough blue trousers, and let his shoulders relax. Surely he had nothing to worry about. He knew – she _had _to feel the same. And even then, something like this wouldn't be enough to break their friendship if she decided she wasn't ready – if she didn't want to.

Confidence and ease reigning in his mind once more, he stepped out of the bathroom to meet her at the small wooden table. She was sitting, gazing into her cup, hands pressed against white porcelain. He settled down in the seat opposite hers and grabbed his own drink, raised it to his lips. Her eyes flickered to meet his and she leaned back in her chair, and calm smile taking hold of her features. Eyelids fluttered closed, and eyelashes fell to rest above her cheekbones.

He stopped mid-drink, cup frozen to the edge of his lips, as he watched her unwind. She was still wearing her brown turtle neck and her military pants, yet he never saw her this relaxed at work. If only she would take her hairclip out too… The word _beautiful _suddenly hung at the tip of his tongue, itched to move past his lips. He bit it back.

"I heard from Winry yesterday, but I guess I forgot to tell you…" she began, eyes fluttering open, interrupting his train of thought. The bottom of Roy's cup quickly found the table again, settling down with a muffled clunk.

"Oh – Any news, then?" he asked coolly. They hadn't heard from Fullmetal in a while.

"Well, I didn't exactly get a straightforward answer," she told him, a glint he could only describe as _scheming_ shining in her eyes. "… but it would seem Ed finally proposed to her." Roy's eyes widened in the slightest.

"Proposed?" he repeated. "I didn't even know they were… _involved_…" Several images flashed into Roy's mind and he did quickly to banish them.

"Well apparently they are now," Riza replied, gazing into her drink. "I remember asking him whether he loved her once – he denied it." She paused, tapping at the side of her cup with the tips of her fingernails. He waited for her to continue.

"We're invited, by the way," she added after the brief lapse of silence. Roy raised his eyes again in question. "To the wedding," she clarified. Roy smirked.

"Fullmetal must be running short on money if he can't even afford to send out proper invitations," he replied. She said nothing in response, and instead settled for finishing the last of her tea.

"I'm happy for them…" she finally said, her voice falling to a murmur. "It must be wonderful."

"Hmm?" Roy quickly lifted his head.

"I'm sure they both realized they loved each other a while ago, knew that they just… belonged together – if anything like that exists." She gripped the handle of her cup and raised her chin to meet his eyes. "I'm glad they're able to share that."

With that she pushed her chair back and stood from her seat, holding her mug in one hand, leaving Roy staring blankly at the vacant seat she had been filling an instant before.

"Are you done with that?" she asked him, gesturing towards his empty tea cup.

"Uh – Yes, I'll take it though," he answered a bit too late, taking a moment to reel in his thoughts. He followed her to the counter and they both began washing out their mugs, the splashing of the water against the sink the only noise present in the room. Riza passed him the dishrag after drying off her hands.

"We still have to get to that paperwork, by the way," she reminded him. "Don't think I forgot."

"Never imagined you could," he retorted with a smile, handing her back the towel. She took it from him with a playful tug and hung it over the side of the sink – next to where she kept the oil for her guns.

Roy had always noticed that Riza never smelled of gun powder or oil despite her chosen profession – she had a distinct, feminine smell of her own. It was surprisingly soft and warm, and held an inkling of some perfume or another – or was it a shampoo? He couldn't tell. All he knew was that he would let himself drown in that smell forever if he could. He would hold her close, bury his nose in her hair, skim down across her skin to nuzzle her neck…

By the time Roy had snapped out of reverie, Riza stood with her hip pushed against the edge of the table, fingers quickly flipping through stacks of papers. Her shoulders rose and fell and she let out a sigh – they'd be up a while if they were to finish this.

Roy came to stand beside her, apparently looking down at the work that was ahead of them. Riza smiled, and just as she was about to tease him for slacking off again, she was halted by the soft touch of his fingers against the inside of her wrist – right at her pulse point.

Her first instinct was to snatch back her hand, withdraw from any physical contact which could be deemed inappropriate between superior and subordinate. The firmness of his touch, however, enticed her hand to stay right where it lay against the paperwork. She lifted her head to meet his eyes, a mix of curiosity and concern marking her features – _what is it? Is something wrong? _Was anything bothering him? Did he need her help with something?

The worry creasing her brow soon faded after a second of looking over his expression. It was boyish, mischievous, and somewhat innocent – although the fingers stroking circles against her wrist were not. She didn't pull away.

"Lieutenant," he began. His voice had adopted a playful loll, not too far off from the one he used when speaking to _Elizabeth_. Hawkeye resisted the temptation of rolling her eyes. _What now?_

"Yes, Colonel?" she answered, drawing out his title, playing along.

"Would you like to dance with me?" he asked her, the edges of his lips pulling up into a smile. Her voice failed her and she was left blinking up at him blankly.

"What?" she managed after an instant. Of all the absurdities she had expected to hear from him, this wasn't one of them.

"You can dance, right?" he asked.

"I suppose," she answered, with a casual shrug. "But not well."

Before she could say any more he took her hand in his and led her away from the table. He stopped once they were face to face, and then gave her a self-satisfied smile.

"I'm sure you dance beautifully," he assured her. "Every Queen does." An affectionate smile grew over her lips despite her best efforts to stop it from doing so.

"Only if her King knows how to lead," she replied softly.

"Luckily for you, he does," he told her.

Riza's posture suddenly stiffened when she felt his hand at her waist, when the distance between their bodies grew narrower. A thousand warning bells rang through her mind – their proximity was beyond inappropriate in this circumstance. The only times they ever touched was when it was necessary – when he couldn't move because of his cauterized wound, or when she had come close to bleeding death. What was beginning to transpire at that moment – in her apartment, behind closed doors – was entirely different.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that no one could see them. No monsters lurked in the shadows, no enemies looked to tear them apart. This moment was private, and if they didn't speak of it to anyone – who would know?

Riza squeezed his hand lightly, sighed as she let the tension in her spine and limbs dissipate. He took her change in posture as a signal to proceed and gently began to guide her through a series of simple ballroom steps. He slowed, however, when a light laugh bubbled at her lips – it wasn't every day he heard her laugh, and so casually too.

"What's so funny?" he asked, spinning her around slowly.

"No, it's just-" she started, looking quickly down at their moving feet before bringing her eyes back to his. "We're not even dancing to anything." The room was bathed in silence aside from their measured footsteps and Hayate's breathy panting at the other end of the room.

"Want me to sing?" he asked with a teasing smile.

"Please don't," she deadpanned in proper Hawkeye fashion.

"Are you saying you don't like my voice?" he continued. She smiled, and almost told him the opposite: that she quite liked his voice – _very _much, in fact.

"No, but if you want to keep dancing, maybe we should come up with a better way to stay in sync," she retorted. As though to prove her point, her foot suddenly landed over his and the tempo they had been maintaining broke momentarily.

"Well, I think I have a solution," he told her softly. With gentle, guiding force, the hand at her waist pulled her closer – until the gap between them was closed entirely. Lower bellies pressed together and chests not far from following suit, Hawkeye hesitated an instant. Roy looked at her for approval, the pressure of his palm against her waist light in case she wanted to withdraw. To his surprise, and great contentment, she instead brought her own hand to brush lightly against his shoulder.

Not many more words passed afterwards. He continued to lead her in small circles across the room, until their circles narrowed to light pacing – back and forth, side to side. Before long Hayate was fast asleep beneath the table and their dance had slowed to a gentle sway.

When they had stopped holding hands, neither knew, but now they stood locked in a full embrace, and nothing had felt so complete before.

Her arms had found their way around his back, hands splayed at his shoulders. Both his arms were laced around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her head rested at his shoulder, and his was pressed against her hair.

There was something comforting about knowing that they _fit_ together so perfectly – like two pieces to a puzzle – not just on an ideological and moral standpoint, but physically as well.

Riza never wanted this to end, never wanted to let him go. With Roy nearly cradled at her chest she suddenly felt able to protect him against all odds – she could _feel _him, _know_ he was safe with her – and words could never describe the sense of peace he brought her.

She had tried to lock feelings away before, to ignore what bubbled right beneath the surface when she thought about this man. It had been for the sake of their dreams and goals, and the damn military's rules – but somehow she almost didn't care now. She saw no danger in it – being as close as they wanted, as close as they _needed _to be.

She sighed deeply, and Roy felt her body melt into his, felt that she was just as comfortable and relaxed by this as he was. As much as he didn't want to break what had settled between them, he wanted to push forwards, so he settled for doing so delicately.

When he began to pull his head away, Hawkeye's hands instantly fisted into his shirt – telling him to stay close. He nuzzled her gently and she conceded by pulling back, their cheeks brushing softly against each other as she did so. He slowly made his way down, ghosting his lips right below her jaw, bringing his hands around to feather touches at her neck and face. Riza in turn brought her hands out to rest over his shoulders, only to then let them fall lower onto his chest.

Roy had planned on _talking _to her about this – but somehow they always ended up communicating based on action. He supposed it was a code that had become second nature to them over the years, almost easier than speaking. He did feel, though, that it was important to get her verbal consensus on this.

Her fingers were drifting up to trace his jaw, curiously exploring. They skimmed down the length of his neck, and played coyly with the ends of his hair. Roy placed his closed lips against her cheek and carefully brushed them across her skin until he reached the corner of her mouth – not quite a kiss yet. He suddenly stilled, and with his hand cupping the side of her face, he drew back to look at her properly.

Her eyelids fell lower than they normally did, eyelashes longer and darker than he remembered them being, yet her eyes were as sharp and as calculating as ever – bright. Her mouth equally drew his attention. He had left her anticipating, and now her lips were slightly parted. She ran her tongue over them quickly – a simple action of the subconscious. He staved off the suddenly pressing desire to kiss her – and hard, too.

"Riza," he said her name, his voice a low whisper, raw with longing and affection in equal measure. She nearly shivered at the sound of her name on his lips – she hadn't let herself hope she'd ever hear it again, and much less under these circumstances. "I want to-" He had almost said _need_, but that seemed unfair – like an obligation to her. He tried again, "I want to-"

"Yes," she cut in quickly, the accuracy with which her own voice mirrored the desire in his catching her off guard. He opened and closed his mouth, seeking to form the right words.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes," she repeated, this time moving her hand to trace his jaw again. "I'm sure."

"Then tell me when you want me to stop," he told her, running his thumb over her bottom lip.

"Don't," she replied. "Don't stop." She suddenly needed to express herself, to let him know she reciprocated his feelings entirely. "I- I want this with you," she finally said somewhat timidly.

She looked straight into his eyes. They were glowing with something she had never seen in him before, and she reminded herself that this was the last facet of Roy she had to discover. She knew him as a companion, as family, as a partner, as an equal – but only now would she know this man as a lover.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Sorry for the wait since the last update - but I finally got my ass in gear and wrote this out.  
Hopefully I'll write the next chapter more quickly that this one.  
Thanks to all of you who follow - and an ever bigger thanks to those who leave reviews - they're much appreciated!**

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Kissing Roy Mustang was, rather unsurprisingly, and extremely natural and comfortable action; any initial nervousness that might have been present – either for her or for him – seemed to completely dissipate when their lips touched. That wasn't to say it was perfect, but it was easy – his breath tickling her cheek, her head moving in time with is – it was relaxing.

He kissed her loosely and slowly, playing against her lips with unfound tenderness and care – trying to communicate everything he had ever wanted to tell her, all the emotions that surged up when he thought of this woman, in a single action. There was love, yes, but there was also longing, compassion, respect, reverence – and everything he gave her, she entirely reciprocated without pause. It was as natural as simply _being_.

He had thought about this moment many times – and it had come in many variations: hurried and desperate, angry and frustrated, slow and fragile, worried and apologetic. He decided that no alternative would have been as perfect in his mind as what came to be. It was _honest_, and open.

Riza worked her bottom lip against Roy's mouth slowly as she reached to thread her fingers through his hair. He squeezed one hand more firmly around her waist and ran his tongue at the seam of her already parted lips. The action caused a strange, tickling feeling to trickle down her spine and settle at the small of her back. She used one palm to guide his face and tilted it off to the side, making it easier for her to deepen the kiss.

The ends of her bangs fell lightly across her face to brush against his skin. He moved to tuck it back, letting his fingers linger at her cheek and then drop to her neck afterwards. Roy gently took the clip out from behind her head, and let the golden strands fall out over his hand. Then he tilted her head back, and tactfully ran his tongue up to skim across the roof of her mouth.

His hand massaging her hip, his other threading through her hair, and now the precise, sensual movements of his tongue caused a surge of warmth to rush through Riza's body. A low hum reverberated in her throat as she vocalized her appreciation for the careful attention he was placing upon her. Heat instantly crawled up her neck, touched her ears, and tainted her cheeks when she heard the sound that she had allowed to escape her lips. She fisted her hand into his hair and tugged at its roots in retaliation – and was satisfied when he gave a grunt of his own in return.

Roy pulled away then to allow some air to pass between them, parting just enough that their breaths feathered across each other's skin. He looked down at Riza through half lidded eyes, and a surge of pride overcame him when he noticed the distinct shade of pink coloring her cheeks. He recalled the almost-moan that had risen from her throat, and suddenly he wondered what other noises she might make if he continued.

With this incentive he leaned forwards to catch her lips again, this time bringing both his hands at either side of her hips. Just as he was about to kiss her though, he couldn't find her lips. He drew closer and closer – yet never quite met her. He tried again and failed again. It seemed as though they kept drifting apart no matter how many times he tried to kiss her anew.

He shifted back to see that Riza was just a few centimeters away – and she was _smirking_. He frowned and then leaned forward in another attempt to find her lips. She had to suppress a chuckle as she backed away again. Roy was almost left speechless.

"Riza Hawkeye…" he began. She stopped and gave him a self-satisfied look. "Are you _teasing _me?"

"No, I'm just waiting for you to make a move," she answered simply. Roy smiled.

It was his turn now. With gentle, guiding force he led her backwards until her shoulders were pinned against the wall. His hands found either side of her again, and he leaned forward, his position almost protective as he stood over her.

"Can't back away now, can you?" he asked her, his voice a hushed whisper that sent shivers running down her spine.

"I think I'm alright with that," she replied just as quickly, bringing her hands up to his chest.

When he leaned to kiss her this time, he was met with success. She parted her lips easily and let him continue where he had left off before. His hands found the hem of her shirt and tucked it out of her uniform – bunched it up until he could feather touches against the skin just at her waist. She shivered, feeling warmth rush low in her belly, and a fluttering feeling in her chest.

He broke the link between their mouths and made his way down across her jaw, traced his lips against her neck – he had thought of this just moments before, when they had been rinsing the dishes. He could smell her hair as he tugged her ear gently between his teeth, as he place open mouthed kisses down the smooth length of skin and to her collar bone. Riza's arms slackened and moved to wrap around his waist.

The careful attention he was placing around her neck seemed to have her caught in a trance. She tilted her head off to the side to let him continue as long as he pleased, stood loosely in his arms as she enjoyed the soft, rolling strokes of his tongue against her skin. She let out something exceedingly close to a whimper, and knew instantly that he could feel the vibrations of every noise she made – along with the frantic beating of her pulse – against his lips.

He made sure never to leave any marks on her neck – it wouldn't do to mar such perfect skin. He kissed her with all the attention and care in the world, and was even gentler when he reached the hardened scar tissue on the left side of her neck. He paused before placing a drawn out kiss against it. She shuddered in his arms, and it was then that she suddenly found her senses again. She didn't want him to dwell on any unpleasant memories at the moment – she wanted him to be _happy_.

Hawkeye quickly brought her hands up to his face and guided his mouth back up to her own, kissing him more roughly than before. He responded in kind, and this time the moan that escaped her was unbridled. Roy groaned in response. Hearing Riza – _his _Riza – make such delightfully erotic noises was maddening. He was intoxicated, drunk off of her essence, and he would give anything to hear her voice her pleasure again. He wanted to push forwards.

She seemed to be on the same wavelength as he was, because just then she shifted her hands to undo the first button of his dress shirt, and then the second. Her hands traced over the newly exposed skin as she went down, her lips following quickly as she placed hot kissed against his chest. The muscles there were hard and smooth, but soft under her tongue. He sighed in appreciation – and gasped when her hand rose to tug at his nipple. She continued her descent. Lower and lower and –

Riza suddenly stopped kissing him when she reached about halfway down his shirt. She stilled before pulling back slightly, very aware of the fact that Roy's attention was fully focused on her. She met his eyes and then glanced back to where she had stopped unbuttoning his shirt. Angry dark scar tissue poked out from the open fabric along his left side, marring otherwise smooth white skin. Her eyes dipped down to the floor – words caught in her throat.

"Pretty ugly, isn't it?" he half-laughed, rubbing the back of his head with his right hand, trying to ease the newfound tension. "I wasn't kidding when I said I cooked well-done."

"No," she replied weakly before catching herself again, trying to steal her voice. "It's not ugly." Her fingers inched to touch the edge of the scar tentatively with the tips of her fingers. It distorted his skin, discolored it completely. She could understand the pain of a burn – but this was much worse than what was on her back.

"I'm so sorry," she finally said, trying not to choke on her own words. "I-"

"No," he cut her off, suddenly realizing what this was about. "This- this isn't your fault." He brought his hand up under her chin and guided her up gently to look at him again. Her eyes were clouded over now – whether with shame or guilt or sorrow, he wasn't sure which.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice more firm than before. "This isn't your fault." She nodded subtly and then turned her eyes down towards the scar again.

"Does it . . . ever hurt?" she asked softly. He sighed; he needed to be honest and open with her about these things, especially if their relationship was to take a new turn.

"Not anymore, really," he answered, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. He pushed it open so that she could see the extent of the scar. "I can't say it doesn't ache sometimes, but I'm fine so long as I don't overexert myself."

He stopped then to let her examine the healed wound. Her movements were hesitant, her eyes still misted over – overwhelmed with emotion. This was a mark of her failure.

When her palm found the center of the scar, she stilled completely before her hand began to tremble lightly. She closed the distance between them again to lean into his chest, burying her face at the crook of his neck. He could feel her breath against his skin – deep and heavy. And then she shifted to place a soft kiss against his pulse point, leaving her lips pressed to his neck for long seconds afterwards.

Roy sighed – enough that she could feel his chest pushing against her own as he took a breath – and then wrapped his arms around her. This should have been expected. Yes, they had known that the scars were there – but seeing them, _touching_ them was an entirely different matter. This wasn't something they could ignore. It was simply something they would have to come to terms with before moving on.

He brought his hands to trace her back in soothing circles, and then stopped with one hand placed right at the center – precisely where he remembered having seen the array so many years before. For whatever reason, that action alone seemed to calm her. His touch chased the tension from her shoulders, relieved the coil building in her spine. She nuzzled his neck – trying to bury herself deeper into his embrace. This was comforting. _He_ was comforting.

"I never asked you . . ." he started slowly. He knew she already understood what he was going to ask her before he even completed his thought. "I never asked you if it healed alright."

"It healed fine," she answered, her tone almost amused. "You made sure it was taken care of properly the first time." Roy bit his tongue to stop the words hanging at his lips – that he wouldn't have had to take care of it at all in the first place if he hadn't had to _hurt_ her.

"Here," Riza said after the pause he had created began to draw out too long. She turned where she stood – still close enough that she was within his arms' reach – but so that her back was facing him. "See for yourself." With that she pulled her black turtleneck cleanly over her head, and in one seamless movement tossed it onto one of the chairs.

Roy watched her every muscle flex along her back as she performed the action, watched the tattoo dance with her movements – until finally she stood still. The first thing that struck him was how much she had changed since the last two times he had seen her back. She was no longer a girl – nervous and uncertain, with her hands clutched at her chest. She was no longer a cadet – coolly apprehensive, and tense in anticipation. She was none of that. She stood firmly on her feet – a symbol of the strong, experienced woman she had become. And her shoulders were loose and relaxed – reflecting the complete trust she had granted him over the years.

_Sometimes I don't think I deserve that trust_, he thought silently as his eyes focused on the markings he had put upon her skin. He raised his hand and brought it forward, almost touched her – but then froze.

"Do you mind if I touch–" he was cut off when he felt her fingers around his wrist. Without turning around, Riza gently guided his palm to the center of the array on her back, just above the salamander marking.

"Of course not," she answered, slowly letting go of him. "It's just as much yours as it is mine." Roy said nothing in response, but it didn't seem as though she had been expecting an answer. He had given her the time she needed with the scars on his abdomen – so she would let him explore her back as long as he wanted to.

At first his hand traced over the inked markings, paying close attention to all the details carved into her skin – much like when she had first revealed this secret to him. As much as the thought of her father having done this to her revolted him, he had to admit that the work was seamless. He would even call it beautiful – artful.

He followed the twin basilisk heads down her spine with the tips of his fingers, eliciting an involuntary shudder from her with his touch. And then he paused, fanning them out at the small of her back. His other hand rose to feather touches against the starburst scar tissue dotting her back – like little suns frozen in a dance with fire.

Riza inhaled deeply. It felt strangely intimate to be sharing her back with someone – it wasn't a part of her body she often dwelled on. She only touched her back when she needed to, and was never particularly fond of looking at it. It was relatively unexplored territory – strangely innocent in light of the destructive secrets it held.

She started when she felt Roy's lips at her nape – not quite a kiss, but close enough to send her heart knocking a beat faster in her chest. His hands glided up – stroked her skin – just as his mouth traveled down to follow the pathway of her spine. He was making his way toward the center of the markings – and once he reached his destination, he lifted his hands to undo the clasp holding up her bra.

Riza couldn't help but smile when he fumbled a little with it – _quite the womanizer. _But once he had gotten that obstacle out of the way, he instantly resumed what he had been doing – distracting her entirely from any further train of thought. He kissed between her shoulder blades – licked on and around the scared tissue. Riza squirmed delightfully under the movements of his tongue despite her best efforts not to, and Roy seemed to be too caught up in what he was doing to consider stopping at the moment.

She suddenly realized that even though this was about the markings he had left on her skin, somehow he wasn't kissing them. Yes – his lips were over the tattoo and the burns, but it was _her_ that he was kissing. His apology was strictly to her person, and he wanted to show her that the markings didn't change anything between them now. The burning had been something necessary, a duty, a responsibility, a consequence for their actions. But he had come to terms with that – or accepted it at the very least.

However, there was still no doubt that he blamed himself for what had happened.

"I hated doing this – I never want to have to hurt you again," he murmured against her skin. She could feel his mouth move as he pronounced the words, and she didn't even have time to collect her thoughts before he moved down lower – to focus at the small of her back. He kissed her fervently – open-mouthed, breath brushing against her, tongue stroking at her skin – almost aggressive. She shuddered at first, but eventually her spine was arching under his movements. He gripped her hips to keep her steady as he continued licking at the smooth, sensitive section of skin on her lower back.

"Roy," she whimpered. He wasn't sure whether or not it was meant to serve as warning or encouragement, but her use of his name halted him. He straightened up again, slowly letting his fingers rise over her skin as he did so. He let his palm rest fully at the center of the tattoo for an instant before he fastened the clasps of her bra together again.

Riza tried to turn to face him then, but just as she was about to move, she felt his arms circling around her waist. He pulled her to him until her back was pressed against his chest, tightened his hold, and then rested his head over her shoulder. She could feel him inhale and exhale across her skin, and the way his chest moved up and down – the very life and breath of Roy Mustang. It soothed her far more than anything else in the world ever could.

She raised her hand to thread her fingers through his hair, softly, soothingly. Roy nuzzled her and she leaned further back into him – and then slowly closed her eyes. A sort of quiet, tired peacefulness took hold of her, even as she was somewhat emotionally jostled by the rediscovery of all their scars. They had made progress – good progress.

Roy lifted his head from the crook of her neck and kissed her cheek while she kept her eyes closed. Something still seemed oddly surreal about the entire situation – somehow it hadn't entirely sunk in yet. He raised his eyes to look at the clock hanging against the wall.

"It's late," he remarked. She only hummed contently in response. He could feel the vibrations she made against his chest.

"Are you tired?" she asking him.

"Exhausted, actually," he answered, letting out a chuckle afterwards. "It's been a long day." Again another hum in agreement on her part. Riza was somewhat grateful for what that meant – she wasn't sure she was emotionally prepared to take things any further at the moment – and it was needless to say the day had left her worn out.

"We should go to bed then," she said casually. Roy smirked into her neck – she could feel his lips. She placed her arms over his and he loosened his hold on her so that she could turn to face him again.

"Inviting your superior officer into the bedroom, Lieutenant Hawkeye?" he teased. "For some reason, I thought you of more professional standards – fraternization seems bellow you."

"You could always court martial me, Sir," she replied. "But I promise to drag your reputation down along with mine first." Her expression became stolid in an instant – and he couldn't help but kiss her when it did. She thought of ignoring him for a second, of just standing there as he kissed her – holding up her staid demeanor. But ultimately she couldn't deny him.

He took her return of his kiss as encouragement and moved in to butterfly softer ones along her jaw and up to her ear – where he blew gently across her skin. She tried to restrain the tremor that danced up her spine.

"I thought your said sleep," she said, poorly hiding the effect he had on her when she spoke in a breathy voice.

"I did," he half-laughed. "But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy this." On cue, he continued kissing where he had left off, bringing his lips to the shell of her ear. Riza took his wrists gently in her hands and pushed away from him without letting go. She took a step back and he took it as a signal to relocate – and so followed her out of the main living area.

Riza's bedroom was a lot like the rest of her apartment: with floors strewn of boxes. Her bed was unmade, the sheets wrinkled and bunched at the foot of it from when she had gotten up that morning – not something one might expect from Hawkeye if one didn't know her well. Roy, though, was rather unsurprised by the casual disarray of it all. They tended to share similar living conditions.

Hawkeye directed herself towards the open closet at the other end of the room and Roy stood, waiting for her to give him further instructions. He watched her dig around until finally she turned to him with a plain white shirt in her hands.

"Here, you might be able to use this," she walked towards him, extending the fabric and holding it up to his shoulders, trying to determine whether or not it would fit him. "It's big for me. I wear it to sleep sometimes." He took it from her with a nod as thanks.

The room was small, and therefore lacking in a means to privacy – but it was hardly something they minded. Roy turned, faced away from her as she changed, and took the opportunity to discard his pants and pull on the fresh shirt she had given him. It just fit. Any smaller at the shoulders and it would have been too narrow.

When he turned to look towards her again, he found that she was dressed much like he was – just a shirt over underwear. His eyes roved over her legs seemingly of their own volition before he forced himself to avert his gaze. He realized she had noticed his brief staring only once he caught the half-smile before it left her lips.

Riza walked over to where he was standing and looked him over – seemingly evaluating his appearance in the excuse for sleepwear she had given him – before lightly placing her hands over his chest. Roy brought her closer to him still, and hugged her tightly before she pulled away with a quick kiss to his cheek.

She headed to lay down on the side of the bed closest to the door, so he walked around to join her from the other side. There was something oddly normal – oddly domestic about just settling against the sheets together. He scooted closer, but let her meet him in the middle of the bed – never overbearing. She nestled into his chest, closer and closer until they couldn't possibly _be_ any closer.

Her legs inched shyly forwards to twine themselves with his – the way lovers' do – and he caught one of them between his. She ran her foot along the side of his calf, dragged it up his skin, and he responded in like. He draped his arm around her waist, held her close and buried his nose into her hair. They didn't need to have slept together – at least not in that sense – to reach a comfortable intimacy which most couples achieved after years sharing a bed. They already knew each other – had memorized the other's breathing – to feel completely at home, at ease.

She traced abstract patterns against his skin with the tips of her fingers – absentminded motions as she fell further into relaxation. He bent his neck slightly to place a tender kiss against her forehead. Riza flushed as he did so – the action felt so protective, made her feel so safe – she wasn't sure what to do in response. It was an outright expression of affection and it made her heart swell in contentedness.

"I should warn you," he murmured against her skin, "I can be pretty clingy."

"Hmm," she hummed, with her face now buried into his collar. "I might just have to send you to sleep with Hayate, then." He only held her closer after she teased him. She didn't budge an inch or protest when he did so. They had waited long enough for this moment - just to be able to hold each other.

"Goodnight, Riza," he told her.

"Goodnight," she murmured back, and after a second, added sleepily, "Roy."

Soon enough he could feel her breathing deepen, her form relax fully into him, and her chest rising and falling against his. For the first time in a long time, Roy feel into deep and restful sleep – wrapped in sheets that smelled of Riza Hawkeye – all the while holding the woman he loved in his arms.


End file.
